“So, this is him, huh?” the ghost of Ragnor Fell asks as he bends down over the bed to study his old friend’s young lover with piqued interest. Alec’s lying asleep next to Magnus, his naked body covered with nothing but a thin sheet. “A pretty little thing, isn’t he?” he murmurs appreciatively.
Magnus, who has been sitting up in bed, reading, looks up from his book. With a fond smile and mischief in his eyes he replies, “I assure you, there’s nothing about Alexander that I would call little.”
Ragnor straightens up and clucks his tongue at him. “Don’t be lewd, Magnus Bane!”
Magnus widens his eyes innocently and replies with indignation, “Dear fellow, I was talking about his height! Where did your mind wander off to?” He raises a finger. “Ah, but then, you and Freud did get along fabulously, if I remember correctly.”
“Yes, quite the peculiar fellow, wasn’t he?” Ragnor comments thoughtfully.
Magnus chuckles and raises his eyebrows. “That’s one way of putting it.”
His laugh must’ve found its way into Alec’s dreams because the Shadowhunter turns onto his side with a deep sigh, throws one arm over Magnus’ midriff and curls up around him, before settling down again. Magnus smiles down at him fondly and runs his fingers through Alec’s sleep tousled hair.
“Are you happy, then, my dear?” Ragnor asks, his eyes soft with affection as he watches Magnus and his lover.
Magnus looks up from Alec’s sleep-relaxed face. “Yes, I am. I truly am. And all because of you and your wisdom.” He inclines his head. “I’m forever in your debt, old friend.”
Ragnor smiles, his expression wistful and melancholy. “And I‘ll come to collect one day. But hopefully, not for a very, very long time yet…”
And then he fades again, leaving the lovers alone; one oblivious, the other a little misty-eyed with heartache for friends lost forever.